


Settle

by Mottlemoth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/pseuds/Mottlemoth
Summary: In the morning Harry has the final exam of his teacher training. He needs to sleep, but insomnia has other ideas. Luckily there's someone he can rely on to settle him.





	Settle

By half past ten, Harry had realised something was wrong.

In the quiet of their rooms, shrouded in shadow and with an empty mug of chamomile tea on the nightstand, there was no good reason he should still be awake. In the morning, he would be making the final push in a year's hard work - he had to give himself the best possible chance. Lying awake wasn't going to help.

He shut his exhausted eyes to the bedside clock, forced his head down into the pillow, and told himself to stop worrying.

His thoughts whirred on, unimpeded.

Harry lay alone, listening to them chatter in the silence.

He couldn't help it. Even as he told himself that this was _not_ the night for insomnia, the rest of his brain was busily reciting marking schemes, drafting sample lesson plans, fumbling over the finer points of the curriculum. He did his best to box up the thoughts and put them aside, telling himself sleep was happening now - not revision.

Moments later, he was rifling back through the box, hunting for some citation he could only half-remember.

Gudgeon 1987? Or Gudgeon 1988?

He didn't know. But he knew it could be the difference between a fail and a pass.

He should have learnt this by now - should have studied harder - but it was quarter to eleven. It was too late now. He had to sleep.

He got up, had a drink of water, and put his head back down to the pillow.

Eleven came - then half past. Sleep did not.

 _Twenty-six,_ Harry thought. _Worrying about exams like I'm sixteen again._ He shifted onto his side, onto his back and then his front. He flipped the pillow, cast the covers off, retrieved them from the floor and hauled them up around his neck. As citations, dates and marking schemes rioted through his head, his brain shrieked at him that it was almost midnight - almost _tomorrow_ \- and they _had_ to sleep, now or never. His whole career rested on his ability to think in the morning. Harry went to the bathroom, confirming that he hadn't needed to go at all, then swapped his tee for a lighter cotton shirt, in case it was the heat. He knew it wasn't. He shuffled to the other side of the bed. It didn't work. The clock ticked on.

As Harry opened his desperate eyes, and saw that it was three minutes to twelve, he knew he had ruined his life.

He might as well call the exam board right now, and tell him to tear up his application. He was clearly unfit to teach.

Ten past twelve.

It would be one AM soon. Harry covered his face with his hands. Two hours, and not more than a minute of sleep.

He'd have to see all their disappointed faces - Ron, Hermione, Mrs Weasley - all the people who loved him. He'd have to tell them he wasn't going to be a teacher after all. He couldn't bear it.

 _One thing we haven't tried_ , he thought.

Did he dare? He'd done everything he could to avoid it - that one face he couldn't bring himself to disappoint. Two hours ago - more than that, in fact - he'd been put to bed with camomile tea, a murmured reassurance, and a warning not to be up for long.

It was now the next calendar day. Dawn was edging its way closer, and he was no nearer to sleep than he'd been two hours ago.

He would have to risk it. He couldn't think what else to do.

He needed comfort; there was only one place he would find it.

Defeated, Harry pushed back the crumpled bed covers. He slid his feet out of bed. The floor beneath was hard stone and cold, no warmer for the worn layer of carpet. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his sore eyes with the heels of his hands, hoping he was doing the right thing. The clock ticked loudly in the silence.

He left the bedroom, swaying a little as he walked. His brain ached from lack of sleep. He padded through the empty lounge, barefoot and exhausted, towards the feeble promise of candlelight beyond. The door of the office stood ajar.

The man he needed was marking at the desk - grey shirt-sleeves, black coffee, a single candle illuminating a stack of sixth-year essays. Harry watched through the open door, nervous, as the slender green quill hovered over a paragraph, crossed something out with a quick scratch and added something new. The ink shone like spilled blood in the candle's flame.

Severus sighed, took a long drink of coffee, and continued to read.

Harry steadied himself with a breath.

He pressed an anxious hand on the door. It creaked as it opened, far louder than he'd hoped. Severus turned from the desk in surprise.

"Harry." He shot a concerned look at the clock on the wall. "It's past midnight. Why on earth are you still awake?"

"I - can't sleep..." Harry pushed his hands up through his hair, unsurprised to find it already spiked on end. "I'm sorry, I just - keep thinking... then I'm thinking about how I'm thinking... then I think about _that_..."

Severus put aside the quill.

"This won't do... your exam is in the morning. You haven't worked this hard for a year to scupper your chances now."

"I know," Harry managed, his throat cracking. He covered his blurry eyes with his hands. "I know, I'm sorry - I just... I can't..."

"Hush... we need to remedy this." Severus stood up from the desk, put an arm around him, and steered him from the office. "Tell me you haven't been lying awake all this time."

Harry mumbled his apologies, weak; Severus guided him through their rooms. He didn't care where they were going. His head was ringing like a bell and the morning was lurching closer with every minute. He needed to stop thinking. It didn't matter how.

In the lounge, Severus guided him to the old armchair by the fireplace. Harry stared down at his hands as Severus knelt before him on the Axminster rug.

"Look at me," came the quiet insistence.

Harry lifted his eyes, too tired to resist. The black eyes softened as they considered him. Their edge of disapproval ebbed away. Severus reached out to cup his jaw, stroking his cheek with a thumb. Harry's eyes fluttered shut.

"You are very capable," his lover murmured. "That isn't praise. It is a fact. I do not say it lightly. You know you've prepared as much as you can."

"But - why can't I _sleep_? I just..."

"Because you care about the outcome," Severus said. "Because you want it to go well." He ran his fingertips up Harry's neck, into his hair. The coolness of the touch took the breath from Harry's lungs. It felt like being blessed - that perfectly soothing, gentle touch, full of clarity and calm.

The teaching degree had been Severus's idea. Rolanda - Madam Hooch - had been talking about early retirement, seeing some more of the world. She would need a successor. Harry couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather spend his life.

He just had to get over this last hurdle - this final exam.

If only he could sleep.

"No more thinking," Severus murmured. "No more caring. There's nothing to be done now but to sleep and wait for the morning."

Harry let out a long breath. "That's - easier said than done."

Severus was regarding him with quiet pity. "I know."

He paused, then leant close. His lips gently brushed over Harry's. It was a question.

In reply, Harry caught Severus's mouth with his own. They kissed slowly, softly, in the dark. Harry shivered, starting to let go.

The first gentle flash of tongue made his stomach twist. He pushed a little nearer to Severus, rewarded as cool hands came to stroke his sides, rumpling the cotton of his shirt. His breath hitched at the contact. The hands found their way beneath the fabric, stroking him with long, idle caresses, and his heart began to beat a little faster.

He didn't dare ask. Even as Severus pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, he was too nervous to say.

He didn't need to. His lover, petting his back, murmured against his mouth, "Shall I settle you?"

Harry quivered, aroused at once. It was the voice. Nothing offered in that voice would fail to turn him one.

"I... that would probably help."

He felt Severus's lips curve against his own. The older man's hands, deft and gentle, found their way to his buttons and began to undo them.

Harry's stomach curled.

"Please," he managed, voice tight. Severus hushed him with a kiss. His lover's tongue eased between his lips, slow and firm, as tender fingers coaxed their way downwards from button to button. Harry began to shiver, colour flaring across his face. He fumbled to push his hands beneath the grey shirt, desperate to feel skin - chest - Severus's warmth. As he found it, his lover let out a breathy groan and pulled him nearer, stirring into the exploratory caresses. Harry's pulse-rate spiked. He raked his hands over Severus's chest, weak, marvelling all over again over the feel of the man he loved. Their kiss broke; Severus dipped his head to Harry's throat.

At the first hot-breathed kiss, the first lick, Harry knew he'd die if this stopped. He'd never needed anything so much in his life. Severus's hands were stroking up his sides now, over his chest, up onto his shoulders, relieving him of the pajama shirt. He wriggled out of it, shivering. As the cotton came free from his arms, he wrapped them around Severus, gripping the older man's shoulders hard. His lover's breath hitched. The kisses sharpened, gentle bites that fogged Harry's vision into blurs. A hand caressed its way down over his stomach.

"Please," he begged. As Severus cupped him, massaging his swelling cock with a slow and practiced ease, Harry's eyes rolled back into his head. "Oh - fuck..."

"Couch?" Severus's voice came soft in his ear, dark as velvet and unendingly tender. "Or bed?"

Harry's heart pounded at the choice. His body didn't want to wait the journey to another room; but his brain had only one desperate need. It had needed it for hours. "Bed," he decided. His lover gave a low hum of ascent.

"Bed." Severus's arms encircled him, gathering him up from the couch. "Hold tight."

Harry did. As he was carried to the bedroom, Severus murmured against the corner of his jaw.

"What can I do to relax you?"

Harry bit down at his lip. Severus could read out a grocery list and turn people on.

"Tell me," his lover hushed as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom, nuzzling the tip of his nose over Harry's earlobe. "Whatever you wish… whatever you need."

"God, Severus." Harry swallowed, shivering, and tangled his fingers in his lover's hair. "I want... take me. Please."

"Take you, mm...?"

"Please..." He wanted to be fucked; he couldn't say it. He wanted Severus to coax him onto his back, lie between his thighs - gentle fingers, warm oil - wanted that impossible pressure, the white-hot stretch, his lover's weight protective and gentle on top of him - the tight spiral as Severus's prick nuzzled its way inside, turning his vision to stars, filling him, making him forget sleep even existed. He wanted to grind his head back into the pillow and pant and plead. He wanted to feel his own cock trapped between them, hard, beating out the rhythm of his heart as his lover completed him.

He didn't have to say it.

Severus knew. The look in his eyes said it all.

He laid Harry down within the tousled mess of their sheets, lowering him as gently as if he were an injured animal. As they kissed, his fingers carded through Harry's hair. Harry moaned as the hands he loved so much slid down his sides to his hips, caught the waistband of his shorts and eased the fabric down. He wriggled to free them. Severus let go of his mouth, following the line of Harry's body with kisses down the bed and helped to discard the shorts, relegating them to a corner somewhere. He kissed his way back up slowly, lingering on the inside of Harry's knee, his inner thighs, his navel, then lathing each nipple softly with his tongue.

He was still fully dressed as he reached Harry's mouth. Shaking, Harry set about correcting that.

The grey shirt was far easier to remove than work robes - the buttons came apart freely, smoothly, and the belt of the trousers yielded to his much-practiced touch with ease. Severus's restless breathing dissolved to groans as he pushed his hands through the open fly, encircling his lover's swollen cock with both hands. He gripped firmly, sliding the black cotton of Severus's boxers rhythmically up and down his prick, earning himself a shudder. The groans tightened; Severus threw back his head.

"Harry - " He swallowed. The muscles in his throat visibly worked. "Steady..."

Harry's heart wrenched at the sight - his lover's face, tight with pleasure, with need. He didn't care if he failed in the morning. He didn't care if he failed everything ever for the rest of his life.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, divesting Severus quickly of the rest of his clothes. They fell together in the bed sheets and kissed, rolling, shifting, panting as the full length of their bodies came together. Nothing in the world felt like this. Harry groaned, his eyes sliding shut as they ground slowly against each other, sharing breath now, two hearts hammering as they tried to reach each other.

For some time they kissed, moving together as the pleasure grew. At last, with a sharp-drawn breath and a deft show of strength, Severus knocked him gently onto his back.

As his lover finally parted his thighs, Harry fought not to come on the spot. He reached up to grip the headboard, hard, and forced himself not to think - not to feel the first careful caresses of those fingers, wet with oil - slowly parting him.

A tender kiss brushed his stomach. He looked down, panting. Severus was watching him along the length of his torso, the black eyes were full of reverence.

"Ready?"

"R-Ready - " Harry's knuckles went white at the first firm push of fingers. " _Fuck..."_

"Harry - "

"N-no - don't stop. Please don't stop."

Severus laid another kiss upon his taut stomach muscles. "Promise me."

"Promise - " Harry swallowed hard. "P-Please. Feels good."

His lover nuzzled his way up Harry's torso, brushing his mouth across the shining expanse of his skin, as Severus's gentle fingers continued to ease their way in and out. As he reached Harry's mouth, Severus soothed his ragged whimpers with his tongue for a moment - then whispered against his lips, soft as a summer storm, "You are loved. So, so loved _._ "

Harry screwed his eyes shut, feeling his heart boom in response. He could barely form words. He tightened his grip on the headboard. Three fingers now - deep and relentless.

"Severus..." he managed. "Oh, fuck - "

"Soon. Relax for me... breathe."

Harry swallowed hard, fighting to focus. With purpose, and with no small effort, he eased his white-knuckled grip on the headboard. His breath began to steady.

"Let me," Severus hushed against his jaw. He leant down, flashing his tongue along Harry's neck and the curve of his shoulder. "You're safe."

The fingers inside began to thrust a little faster, a little firmer - a rhythm Harry knew well. A spike of pleasure seared its way up through his body. He felt it sizzle up his spine, across the nape of his neck, out through his shoulders to his fingertips, which trembled as they curled at the headboard.

"Now..." Harry swallowed, arching his hips off the bed. "Please - "

Severus's teeth gently grazed his earlobe. "Now?"

" _Now!_ " he gasped. Severus shifted, reaching for a pillow with his free hand. Harry whimpered, tightening his hold on the headboard, and pleaded as the pillow was negotiated beneath his hips. Severus's hands ghosted along his thighs, sure and strong, guiding them up to wrap around his waist. Harry panted, desperate. He felt empty; he felt open.

The first few seconds - blinding white, pleasure and pain in perfect balance - Severus's hissed exultation against his throat, and his own gasps, sharp and fast - through it all, the gentle grip of hands upon his thighs. The pain began to ebb, easing its hold with each hammer-blow of his heart. Harry opened his eyes, unsure when he'd closed them. He found Severus gazing fiercely into his face.

He swallowed, full of fire; the black irises blazed back at him.

"Are you alright?" Severus managed. His voice was husky, full of restraint. A tremor as fine as a silk thread was thrumming just under his skin, through the chest muscles that pinned Harry in place.

"Yes - I-I'm fine…" He tightened his thighs about his lover's waist, weak. "I - I need - "

"I know." Severus shuddered, stroking a kiss across his open lips. "I need, too..."

He began to move; Harry's eyes rolled back into his head, overcome, and holy _fuck_ , how could this feel so _good_? Why did they not spend every second from dusk until dawn every night doing this? His head dropped back into the pillow with a flump. A groan wrenched itself from his throat.

"Oh..." His eyes faded out of focus. " _Fuck_ , Severus…"

His lover gave a soft intake of breath.

"Gods, if that doesn't make me feel alive… my name, like that in your mouth..."

"This... isn't making me sleepy," Harry confessed - then jerked with a cry, as a thrust slid sharp and deep. He gripped Severus harder with his thighs. _"Oh...!"_

"You will be," Severus breathed. His teeth scraped Harry's lower lip, caught it and tugged. "When I'm finished with you."

"God..." Harry's head fell back once more. The muscles in his throat seized as he swallowed. Severus followed them with his mouth, brushing, stroking. "Don't tease me," Harry begged. "Just - please... fuck me. I need it. I'm - going to fail in the morning."

"You're not going to fail," Severus breathed in his ear. A thrill went skittering down Harry's spine, shivering out across into the tight white coils of pleasure now rising higher with every stroke. "Now close your eyes - let me care for you."

Harry's eyes flickered shut. He stretched back his head, surrendering the final scraps of thought to his lover's control, and lost himself in the feel of Severus's weight between his thighs, the pressure inside, the tender mouth doting to every sensitive spot on his neck.

They fucked slow and steady - like the first time, Harry thought - an Edinburgh hotel seven years ago, night air through the window - grinding together as deep as they could go, over and over. Time unwound around them. He stopped caring if he failed. It didn't matter, so long as there was this - always this.

No career could do this to him.

No career would ever carry him to bed and make him forget his own name. No career would dig its fingers gently into his hips, groan to him that he was beautiful. No career would whisper in his ear as he came that it loved him.

No exam result would compare to the feel of lacing his fingers into Severus's damp hair, listening to his lover breathe in the rush of his afterglow.

For a long time afterwards, they laid together in the quiet. Somewhere outside of Harry's fuzzy, sex-soaked consciousness, a clock was slowly ticking. He stirred in Severus's arms, responding with a sigh to the lips that leant for his own. They kissed - slow and steady, full of love. Harry's mind began to fog.

He woke, seven hours later, to the quiet beeping of the alarm.

 

*

 

A month later, not long after breakfast, there came a creak from the door of Severus's office.

He turned from his marking to find Harry, pale, standing on the threshold.

He was holding a scroll. It was capped at both ends and sealed with the bronze sigil of the Wizarding Educators Examination Board.

Severus drew in a breath. They'd been waiting for this for some weeks now. It looked like today was the day.

"I can't open it," Harry croaked. He was wearing Severus's favourite jumper - the grey one that was a little big for him, a little long in the sleeves. Severus considered few things on the planet to be adorable. This was one of them.

"I'm afraid you have to," he said. "Otherwise, we shall have to stand here for the rest of our lives... which will be something of an inconvenience."

Harry looked briefly like this option might actually be worth considering. He looked down at the scroll, swallowing.

"I - wondered if - would you - ?"

Severus paused.

In truth, it was Harry's hard work that had resulted in this success - or, he supposed, in this failure. It was Harry that should know the outcome first.

But he hated to see Harry tormented. He'd known him as a boy, then a young man - and now, as a man. He'd watched him work his soul to threads during the war, tracking the Dark Lord's forces to every corner of the world to eradicate them, never faltering, never tiring, never frightened to act.

He extended a hand, maintaining a neutral expression.

Harry covered his eyes as his lover broke the seal, sliding off the caps. Severus unravelled the scroll to its fullest extent and read, quickly, his eyes scanning the long list of examinations and numerical grades.

"What is it?" Harry begged. His hands scrunched over his eyes. "Oh shit, I failed. Didn't I?"

Severus's eyes at last found what they were seeking - the final grade, circled at the bottom.

He smiled.

Without a word, he turned the parchment towards Harry's concealed face. Harry let out a whimper.

"Don't," he pleaded. "Don't tell me, just… throw it out of the window. I'll ask Fred and George if I can stock shelves in their shop. I'll beg Albus to let me clean the castle toilets. Just don't tell me."

"Open your eyes."

"God - I can't. Is it - _bad-_ bad, or just - bad - ?"

Severus's lips curved. "Harry... open your eyes before we both grow old."

Harry pried his hands the tiniest crack apart. One green eye peered out at the parchment, wincing in preparation. Severus watched him search desperately for the same thing he had sought; he saw the green eyes widen as they found it.

"Distinction! _What_? That's - there's _no_ _way_ that I - "

Severus, grinning, put the parchment aside. He opened his arms.

His back hit the wall with the force of Harry's hug. Laughing, they sank to the floor.

 

*

 

Three months later, Severus watched from the library window as Harry assembled his inaugural squadron of first years on the lawn. The year's fresh-faced additions to Hufflepuff House were shivering with excitement in the September breeze, each one clutching a broom taller than they were. They watched attentively as their Flying Master in his leather boots strode up and down, demonstrating each Quidditch ball in turn, pointing out the goalposts high above the pitch.

A smile played about Severus's mouth.

 _Professor Potter_ , he thought. He would make sure Minerva reserved him a seat for this year's Quidditch House Cup.

Harry had spent every day this week getting the pitch ready for the season. He'd come home to their quarters every night smelling of cut grass and leather. It was definitely not unwelcome.

Severus watched Harry mount his broom, swinging one thigh over the vintage Firebolt with a practiced ease.

Perhaps a front row seat _,_ he thought.

He turned away from the window, not troubling to repress his smile. It was unfortunate he had classes to teach.

Perhaps he would head down to the pitch this afternoon to watch the Slytherin first years take to the skies - as their interested house master, of course. His professional attendance was almost mandatory.

 _The wonders of a good night's sleep_ , he thought, as he headed back down to the dungeons. They really couldn't be overstated.


End file.
